Destruction: The December People, Book One (40 page)

“Jude!” David shouted. “Jude!”

He had run too far ahead and had disappeared.

“Dammit, Jude!”

He feared Jude would slip away. Disappear. And he’d never see him again.

“You’re too slow,” Jude said. He had stopped to wait.

“Are we still on the road?”

“Sure, it’s right there.”

“It’s still so dark… and quiet,” David said.

“So?”

“If she was here, wouldn’t we have seen or heard something by now? We’ve been going down this road for a while.”

Jude pointed excitedly as if he had spotted Santa’s sleigh. “Look!”

David whipped around. A little trail of light faded into the horizon. Then, in the opposite direction, he saw another one. A basketball-sized globe of light hovered a few feet above the ground, then shot sideways before it diverged into two balls and then disappeared.

“Is that what you saw that made you want to stop here?” David asked.

“Yeah. I saw a light like that.”

David shivered. Now that he had stopped walking, the air had grown colder. His jacket and the box of ashes within provided little warmth.

“What?” Jude asked.

“It’s just… what do you think that was?”

“I don’t know.”

“I know what it’s not. It’s not flashlights, headlights, or lights in a house. If I’m not mistaken… they’re the Marfa lights. Ghost lights. A mirage caused by temperature gradients or UFOs, depending on who you ask.”

“What are you saying?”

That they’re completely lost. But he couldn’t bring himself to say it aloud. “We’ll keep going. This road has to lead to something; that’s assuming it’s really a road and not a dry river bed.”

“It’s a road,” Jude growled back. “We’re close.”

David followed Jude at a jog. The faint light given by the stars illuminated his outline, and he kept him in sight even though his lungs seared from panting in the cold air and a stitch in his side made him want to double over.

Then Jude stopped. He stared at something in front of him.

“What is it?” Jude asked.

David gave his eyes a moment to make the most of the tiny amount of light. They had come to a massive hole in the earth. Limestone had been cut out in giant blocks, giving the slopes of the hole a stair-step appearance. David scanned the area inside and around the quarry and didn’t see any signs of an active dig. No construction equipment, no Porta-Johns, no foreman’s trailer. He saw no vehicles or any other sign of man.

“It’s an old quarry,” David said.

“I don’t understand. Does he live here?”

David paused before answering. Even though the man was a snake, David didn’t think he lived under a rock. And he would need a vehicle of some kind to make it out here.

“No,” David said finally.

Jude kicked the ground, causing gravel and sparks from his magic to spray out in front of him. “No. This isn’t right. I know we’re close. I can feel her.”

“I’m sorry. I know you did your best.” Enchanted Rock had called to David and Crystal. Perhaps that had happened again. The magic of the place drew Jude here, not Emmy. “It could be the magic from the Marfa Lights, whatever they are. That’s what you feel.”

Jude sat down at the edge of the quarry and wrapped his arms around his knees. David didn’t remember him looking so much like a child, even when he was one.

“We failed?” Jude asked as if he had just learned the word. “No. Magic is about believing the impossible is possible. If we believe we can find her, we will.”

“We’ll keep looking, but we have to go back to the car. We need to drive back to Marfa where there are cell phone towers. That way I can call your mom. Who knows, Emmy could even be back home right now.”

“She’s not.”

Jude’s breaths became jerky. He cried and tried to do it quietly. The sound make David hurt from his head to his gut. He hadn’t heard his son cry in more than ten years.

David sat next to him, not quite sure what to do. “Jude…”

“Leave me alone, please.”

atrick had never stayed awake past four in the morning until tonight. He once stayed up until after three one summer night when he snuck out of bed to play a video game he had been addicted to at the time, but he didn’t feel tired tonight. Or, perhaps, he’d never felt more tired. But he didn’t feel
curl up in bed and rest
tired; he felt
I’ll never sleep again
tired.

Samantha had fallen asleep an hour ago, curled up on the couch next to him. Her painted toes pressed against his leg. He didn’t know if she didn’t want to sleep in Emmy’s room anymore or if she had simply gotten so tired, she passed out where she sat, but it didn’t matter. He liked it this way. He had put a blanket over her and sat at her feet. She didn’t need twenty-four hour guard duty, at least now that Jude had left, but it made Patrick feel better. If he could work it out so he could stay awake for the rest of his life to watch her sleep, he would.

For hours he sat there and then occasionally visited by Mom to check if she was okay. She gave a sarcastic, “Yes, I’m awesome. How is your day going?”

Perhaps she thought his staring into space for hours was a weird way to cope. Mom had been flitting around the house doing ridiculous tasks such as addressing Christmas cards for next year. “I have all the stuff out now,” she had said. “I can’t believe I never thought to do this before. This is so smart.”

Then she baked a pecan pie at midnight, followed by three enchilada casseroles she put in the freezer. All of this punctuated by calling Dad, Emmy, and Jude over and over and over as if she wanted to be the one-hundredth caller in a radio giveaway. None of them answered. Their phones didn’t even ring, just went to voicemail. Patrick couldn’t imagine any reason why Dad would turn off his phone tonight, and simply the fact that it didn’t make sense terrified Patrick.

He didn’t stare into space because he had gone crazy. He was paying attention. As stupid as his gift of one-second-prophecy was, he still wanted to know. However, waiting for prophecies didn’t work like it did in the movies. He couldn’t tell what thoughts and images came from his own brain and what might be a message. After all, he couldn’t watch his thoughts like a movie. He
thought
his thoughts. He wrote the movie. He tried to think about Emmy and picture her surroundings. He had a vague sense of fear, but he couldn’t picture anything. In fact, thinking of Emmy made his mind go completely black and silent. He had an idea of what that might mean, but didn’t even want to think it. He had gotten several other images throughout the night—a rushing stream, a ball of fire, and most recently, a pair of giant black wings.

He heard his mother’s voice in her bedroom and shot up from where he sat. Evangeline and Xavier had gone to bed a couple hours ago, and Mom didn’t usually talk to herself, at least not in full sentences. He went into her room without knocking. Sure enough, she spoke into her phone. She put her hand over the receiver and whispered, “I’m sorry, honey, I didn’t mean to… it’s not them.”

She waved for him to come in.

“Thank you so much. Okay. You, too. I will,” she said and hung up.

“Who were you talking to? Grandma?”

“Actually, it was Lydia Armstrong, you know, from church. She’s the one who always wears those gaudy pins on her blouse.”

“Why were you talking to her in the middle of the night?”

“She’s in my prayer circle.”

“You mean, they’re praying… for us? For this situation?”

Mom smiled a little. “They don’t know all the details. Just that Emmy is missing. As nice as it is to think I can cast a spell and protect my family on my own… I feel safer knowing I’ve consulted an expert.”

“You mean God?”

“Yes, I mean God.”

“Yeah. I prayed for her, too.”

“Thank you, Patrick. You know, I should say it more often. You’re a good person. I’m proud of you.”

That made him mad. Basically, she meant,
I’m glad you’re not pure evil like your brother
. He didn’t do anything more special than
not
rape anybody. Yeah, he should get a medal for that.

“Thanks,” he said.

“Have you picked up on anything?” Apparently, she knew what he had been trying to do.

“No.”

She squinted at him. “Are you lying?”

“No,” he said again.

“All right. Come here and give me a hug.”

He did as he was asked. She looked calm, but she shook slightly.

“I should tell you to go to sleep,” she said. “But I know it wouldn’t do any good.”

“I’ll be right outside if you need me.”

She smiled at him warmly, but her eyes stayed sad.

When Patrick went back into the family room, Samantha sat up with her arms wrapped around her knees.

“I’m sorry. Did our talking wake you up?”

“No. I woke up when you left the couch. I liked being able to feel you with my feet. It helped me sleep.”

“Oh.” He sat back down and picked up her feet and put them back on his leg. “There you go.”

“Can I ask you something?” she asked.

“Sure.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“Why would I be mad at you?”

She shrugged and didn’t look him in the eye. “I want things to go back the way they were.”

“Me, too, but I don’t know if that’s possible.”

She stared at her knees. Her shoulders slumped as if her arms suddenly became too heavy.

“But… I suppose there is no impossible for a spring witch,” he said. “You can break through ice with flowers.”

She flashed him her green eyes.

“Do you want to go dancing?” he asked.

“Dancing?”

“Maybe not right now… but you know, sometime soon. Would it make you feel better?”

“Yes.”

“Just so you know, I don’t know how to dance at all.”

She smiled, but the smile faded quickly and she looked back at her toes. “Patrick, with everything that happened with Emmy, I haven’t had a chance to tell you.”

Patrick felt his stomach tighten. He didn’t have much experience with dating, but still knew that tone. The “we need to talk” tone.

“What?” he asked, his throat dry.

“Would you still want to be with me, if I left?”

“Left?”

“After the summer wizards came, your mom called my Aunt Charlotte. She’s going to come get me.”

“Well, that’s good, right?” He didn’t really think it was good. He wanted her to live here with him. He didn’t care that fifteen-year-olds generally didn’t get to live with their girlfriend. He felt like his throat had filled with cement that rapidly hardened. He waited for the axe to fall.

“She lives in New Orleans. I’m going to live there.” Her throat sounded like it had hardened too, or she suddenly got a cold. “I don’t want to. I know I can’t stay here. But I don’t want to leave Houston, or you.”

“When is she coming to get you?”

“New Year’s Day.”

“That’s soon.”

“But I’m not leaving if Emmy’s not safe by then. I won’t leave if she’s not home. I won’t leave my friend. I’ll lock myself in the bathroom when Aunt Charlotte comes; I don’t care what I have to do.”

“I’m sure she’ll be back before then.” Patrick didn’t know if she would be, but that was just what he had to say. “You asked if I still wanted to be with you if you left. Do you mean that?”